


There and Back and There Again

by oswinpond



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Thilbo, anyway they're gay and in love, bagginshield, i promise it does have a happy ending, it's sort of a fix it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:09:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26616493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oswinpond/pseuds/oswinpond
Summary: Three long, lonely years after the Battle of Five Armies, Bilbo Baggins wakes up in Erebor in a universe where seemingly everything went right. Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli are all still alive, and Azog never even made it to Ravenhill. There's just one small problem: he has no idea how he ended up there.On the other side, the Bilbo Baggins from the perfect world wakes up stuck in the canon universe in the Shire.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Kíli (Tolkien)/Tauriel (Hobbit Movies)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 51





	1. An Unexpected Journey

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy y'all! If you want to send requests/say hi on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/crowleycrawley) my asks are always open, please enjoy!

_ Canon _

Three years.

It had been exactly three years since Bilbo Baggins had come home from the Battle of Five Armies. Three years of  an empty house peace and quiet.

The hobbit sighed as he looked out the window. He could see his little oak tree starting to come in from where he stood, and he took a shaky breath. It didn’t matter how much time had passed.

Losing Thorin still hurt too much to think about.

The tea kettle whistled behind him and he turned, grabbing a scone from his pile as he did so. They were still fresh from yesterday, and he chewed on it methodically as he considered his options. He could go to the market and pick something up, or he could go to Bree if he wanted to go for a bit of an adventure. Though maybe for today he’d go to the Green Dragon; that was a far sight closer than the Prancing Pony.

Wherever he ended up, it was louder there.

Bilbo stood and cleared away his plates, then slid his hand into his pocket subconsciously to check for his ring. It was still there, of course. Where else would it be? He’d reinforced all his waistcoat pockets with a double lining so that it wouldn’t fall through any holes in the fabric.

_ Spiders. Sting. Mirkwood. Elves, and- _

He took his hand off the ring and walked aimlessly into the living room. Everything was, of course, exactly as he’d left it. He pulled a book off the shelf and dropped into his armchair to read, immersing himself in the words and leaving the silence behind him.

His clock was chiming five before he knew it and it startled him out of his reverie.

“Ah,” he mumbled to himself, “Right.”

Bilbo stood and stretched, then walked over and collected his coat and a few coins to buy dinner with before leaving and locking the door behind him. Not many hobbit holes actually had true locks on the doors, but Bilbo had ended up having one installed after Lobelia had nearly stormed into his house one terrifying afternoon. He chuckled to himself and turned to walk down the lane, humming his little walking song as he went.

By the time he arrived at the Green Dragon most of the tables had filled up, but he didn’t have much trouble securing one near the back by himself. There were very few hobbits that were interested in sitting with him these days (half of them still thought he had some kind of curse on him, and the other half didn’t want to associate with anyone who’d been on  _ adventures _ ). He didn’t mind it much, all things considered.

He walked over to the counter and exchanged some pleasantries with the barkeep, then ordered and returned to his table. These days it was easier to watch than try to fit in, but Bilbo smiled all the same when three hobbits at the next table started arguing over whose strawberry patch produced the sweetest berries.

By the time his food arrived dinner was in full swing, and there had been at least six different table dances in the last hour. Several hobbits were telling outlandish tales to one another two tables over and he smiled to himself again, though this one was far more bitter than the last. How trivial things like wood sprites seemed after facing dragons and orcs.

Eventually he stood to leave, dropping a few coins on the table as he went. On his way out he exchanged a brief greeting with one of the younger hobbits (someone he’d met long ago and promptly forgotten the name of) before walking briskly back to his hobbit hole. He sat on the steps before he entered, looking up at the stars.

“I-” he started, and his voice broke. “I hope you’re well, Thorin, wherever you are. You and Fíli and Kíli.”

He sighed.  _ I would do anything to see you again, _ is what he doesn’t say, but he wants to. When he goes to bed that night, that is the thought in the forefront of his mind.

  
  


The first thing Bilbo notices is that it isn’t quiet.

There is noise coming in from somewhere, and he groans quietly and pulls his pillow over his head to try and block it out. It takes his mind a moment to catch up with the rest of him, and he slowly blinks awake, removing the pillow to look around. A moment later he’s sitting bolt upright, staring around in shock.

He is no longer in his hobbit hole. Instead the walls are made of black stone, and the bed he is laying in is warm, and piled high with furs and the softest sheets he’s ever felt. The floor is the same stone as the walls, and he inhales sharply as everything clicks.

_ Erebor? _

Bilbo is on his feet in an instant and then just as quickly he’s on the ground, blinking away flashes of light as the room spins in circles. He groans again, pressing his hands into his eyes. How had he gotten here? It wasn’t like the Shire and Erebor were next door neighbors, yet he remembered none of the trip he had obviously undertaken to arrive at his current location. Nor did he understand why he was  _ here; _ he’d made a valiant attempt at trying to distance himself from grief, so to put himself right back at the source of his misery-

He staggered to his feet as he heard footsteps in the hall. His head was still spinning and he felt weak and shaky, but he had to figure this out. He had to know. It would be easy, all he had to do was ask whoever was coming.

He steeled his nerves, and watched the door swing open, and-

The world stopped.

There, on the threshold, stood a Dwarf. A Dwarf that had been dead for exactly three years and one day.

Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, smiled at Bilbo.

There was dead silence for all of six seconds before the hobbit made a thoroughly incoherent noise that might have been a sob and fainted.

  
  


When he next came back to himself, he was back in bed. Someone was holding him, and he immediately flinched at the contact. Whoever it was pulled back immediately. The person in question was also speaking to him, and he slowly opened his eyes as he tried to focus on the words.

The second he figured out who was speaking, he fell straight off the side of the bed.

“Bilbo!” Thorin exclaimed, and he reached out to pull him back up. “Are you alright?”

Bilbo jerked back again as Thorin’s hand almost touched him and Thorin pulled back quickly, concern written all over his face.

“Ghivashel?” Thorin said softly, and Bilbo made another incoherent noise. This one was definitely a sob.

“It’s you,” he managed, and then started to cry. Normally he would have shouted at him, something along the lines of  _ where have you been for the last three years, why aren’t you dead,  _ or  _ what on Earth is happening right now, _ but he didn’t have the strength. It was all too much.

Thorin was by his side in a second, hovering next to him, one hand half outstretched as though he wanted nothing more than to pull him close but was reluctant to do so.

_ An embrace. Warmth. Love. _

There was a beat.

Then Bilbo all but flung himself at Thorin, burying his face in his shoulder as another sob tore from his throat. Then another. And another, and suddenly he was barely keeping himself together. Every emotion he’d managed to repress for three whole years slammed into him with the force of a freight train, and the only thing keeping him sane was the thought that Thorin was  _ here. _

For the second time in less than twenty four hours, he came back to himself on the floor. This time, though, Thorin had his arms around him and Bilbo was wrapped around him tightly in return. He sniffed and rubbed his eyes, sitting back as the tears eventually stopped.

He met Thorin’s gaze and blinked in surprise. The look of panicked concern on Thorin’s face was so at odds with what Bilbo was used to that it was nearly comical, and he pushed down a slightly hysterical laugh in favor of a shaky smile.

“Sorry,” he started. “You’re here,” he said again, and shook his head. “How?”

Thorin was now looking at him with a little less panic and a lot more concern. “Amrâlimê, what are you talking about?”

Bilbo stared at him, memorizing every detail. He was exactly the same as he remembered. “Well. Not to be rude,” he started tactfully, then paused. Was it possible Thorin didn’t know he was dead? Maybe this was a dream. Or a hallucination that his mind had finally dropped on him. Goodness, maybe  _ he _ was dead. Lobelia would finally get Bag-End. Urgh, she was probably the one that finally did him in.

“Not to be rude,” he started again, “But you’re dead.”

There was a long moment of silence, broken by the distant noises of hammers and shouting.

Thorin stared at him. “Ghivashel, I can assure you. I am not dead.”

Bilbo met his gaze with a dry look. He didn’t know, then, or this was a truly horrible practical joke. “Look, Thorin. I don’t know what’s happening right now-” at this Thorin looked very worried “- but I do know that exactly three years ago, you fought Azog on Ravenhill, and you-” he couldn’t finish.

But Thorin was shaking his head. “Bilbo, Azog was defeated long before Ravenhill. He was flung from the cliffs by the Eagles after we escaped the goblin tunnels, do you not remember? Bolg was who we fought on Ravenhill, and none of us were even injured.”

Bilbo stared at him. “What?”

Thorin stood, gently pulling Bilbo up with him. “Amrâlimê, are you feeling alright?”

The hobbit pulled back and stumbled slightly as he did so. His hair fell into his face as he shook his head to clear it, and he startled. Never before had his hair been as long as it was now, and he didn’t remember growing it out in the first place. There was a braid in it too, just along the side of his face. He pulled on it, and the bead at the end fell into his hand. Thorin was beside him in an instant, replacing the bead, but Bilbo stumbled back again. There was a ringing in his ears that was making it hard to concentrate.

The door slammed open before he could say anything, and Kíli stood there, grinning from ear to ear. His beard was much fuller than Bilbo remembered, and there was the elf from the battle standing behind him. Tauriel? That sounded right. Kíli started to say something when Thorin crossed to him quickly. Bilbo leaned against the desk. The two of them exchanged a few quick words and Kíli frowned, then nodded and left as quickly as he’d come. Tauriel went with him, and Thorin closed the door behind them.

Bilbo pulled on the braid again.

“I think you owe me an explanation,” he said shortly.

Thorin turned quickly to face him, and blinked in confusion. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said.

“I mean how did I get here, and what do you mean Azog died that early on in the quest? Next thing you’re going to tell me is that Smaug was dead by the time we got here and Thranduil never sent an army of elves to wipe out the Company.”

Thorin stared at him. “Bilbo,” he said, and Bilbo shook his head.

“Don’t toy with me, Thorin Oakenshield,” he snapped, and now he was truly cross, “If you tell me those things never happened-”

“But they never did,” Thorin said, and he sounded almost imploring. “Ghivashel, please-”

Bilbo shook his head, stepping back as Thorin stepped towards him. His hand subconsciously went to his pocket for comfort and he inhaled sharply. There was no ring.

“No-” he gasped, and he spun around on the spot. “No! Where is it, where-”

Thorin caught his arm and he pushed him away, grabbing his coat and digging through the pockets, then his waistcoat, then the whole closet, but it was nowhere to be seen. His ring was gone.

“Where is it!” he shouted, rounding on Thorin. “Where is it!?”

Thorin looked as though none of this was how he expected the morning to go, and to be fair he probably hadn’t.

“Amrâlimê-” he started, and Bilbo let out a strangled yell.

“Oh, stop  _ calling  _ me that! I don’t even know what it means!”

There was dead silence in the room. Bilbo was reasonably certain that even the noise from the rest of the mountain had vanished. Thorin was looking at him as though he’d just shattered the Arkenstone at his feet and then flung the shards into a mine shaft, but for the life of him Bilbo didn’t know what to say.

The door opened again before Thorin could reply, and Kíli, Tauriel, and Óin entered. Bilbo looked at the three of them, then back to Thorin. Then it clicked.

“Mahal,” he said, and everyone stared at him. “That’s where we are. The Halls of Mahal.”

He’d heard the Company discuss the Great Smith before, most often in Mirkwood. Hopelessness had been at its peak then, and several of them had begun to talk about finding their ancestors there. This had to be it, then. They had all died, and somehow all of them had ended up in the Halls.

“Bilbo,” Thorin began, but the hobbit interrupted him.

“Gandalf,” he said quickly, and now that the idea had occurred to him he had to see it through. “Where is Gandalf?”

Kíli frowned. “I think I saw him heading up to Dale earlier today, but-”

Bilbo was dressed in his usual attire in a flash, and he belted on his sword without a second thought too. 

“Right,” he said. “Time to find him.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After waking up in the Shire with no knowledge of how he got there, Bilbo decides to head to Erebor in search of Thorin. (Also I'm sorry but I'm going to run out of cool chapter titles so from now on they're just going to be nameless)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I was a few days late in posting this, I've been drowning in homework..... :P
> 
> Please enjoy!!

When Bilbo Baggins awoke, the first thing he realized was that he could hear birdsong.

Real, genuine birdsong was as rare in Erebor as Dwarves in the Shire; it happened, yes, but not with any frequency, and it was only ever one bird at a time. So as he came to, it was quite a shock to hear several birds all chirping happily away outside his window.

The second thing he became aware of, and the thing that truly startled him into waking, was the sunlight. In the mountain, there was obviously no sunlight, so it came as quite a shock to realize there was sun pouring in through the windows and shining directly in his eyes.

He sat bolt upright and stared around.

Bag-End sat before him, as charming and unchanged as ever. He jumped up and pulled on his robe quickly before walking into the other rooms. Everything was as it had been before he’d moved to Erebor; his library still stood proudly with the ashes of last night’s fire smouldering in the fireplace, the portraits of his parents hung over the mantlepiece, the pantry was well stocked with fresh food from the marketplace, and everything was completely ordinary.

“Thorin?” he called out. Silence greeted him. “Balin? Kíli? Anyone!?”

But there was no reply.

Well this was a mess. He had somehow managed to get back to the Shire after three years, and for whatever reason his husband was nowhere to be seen. His hand went absentmindedly to touch his marriage braid and he inhaled sharply as he realized it wasn’t there. He pulled frantically on the short blonde curls, then ran into the bedroom to stare at his reflection.

Not only was the braid absent, but his hair was shorter than it had been in years.

He recoiled from the image, turning to look around for a bead. At the very least, even if it had been cut, he could do it himself until Thorin could redo it for him. After a thorough search however, he had to conclude he didn’t have one.

_ No bead, no braid, no Thorin. _

What was  _ happening? _

It took him less than an hour to pack a bag, and just over two hours to run out his door and buy himself a pony from a nearby farm. He’d packed enough provisions to last him until at least Rivendell, at which point he could rest and restock. Right.

“Here, Mr. Bilbo! Are you off on another adventure sir?”

Bilbo didn’t stop. “Yes, I suppose I am!” he called back.

The Shire was behind him.

Erebor lay ahead.

By the time he reached Rivendell, his pony was exhausted. He wasn’t faring much better himself; he’d been feeling decidedly  _ off _ ever since he’d woken up a few days ago in the Shire.

Lindir came to greet him as usual, but it wasn’t his usual greeting.

“Hail, traveler. What business do you have in the Valley of Imladris?”

Bilbo blinked at him. Surely he knew who he was? “Lindir, hello,” he said, and greeted him in his best approximation of elvish custom. “I’d like to stay here for a while, and I’ll need some supplies if it’s not too much trouble. May I speak with Lord Elrond?”

If Lindir was taken aback by his requests, he didn’t show it, but there was no trace of his smile either. “Of course,” he replied, and gestured politely. “If you would follow me?”

Bilbo nodded in reply and walked after him as his pony was taken to the stables. He walked through the gardens and past the fountain, following Lindir up what felt like far too many staircases before he was shown into a room.

“Lord Elrond will arrive shortly,” Lindir said graciously.

Bilbo nodded again. “Thank you, Lindir,” he replied, and turned to look at his surroundings. He’d been in this room before, or at least he felt like he had; strangely it seemed that the longer he spent in Rivendell the harder it was to tell rooms apart.

Thorin had always disapproved of him traveling weeks to return to Rivendell, but as he’d told him multiple times, where else was he going to learn Sindarin? Mirkwood? Oh yes that would go over well. He’d only come and gone twice in his three years, but Fíli had gone with him on the last occasion. His reasoning had been something along the lines of “It’s irritating when all the elves hanging around talk to each other in Sindarin and I’d like to know what they’re saying,” which Bilbo really couldn’t argue with. Whatever his reasoning, it had been worth it watching him try to convince Thorin.

Someone cleared their throat behind Bilbo and the hobbit nearly jumped out of his skin. He’d been so deep in thought he’d completely missed Elrond’s arrival.

“Good morning,” he said, his surprise getting the better of him.

Elrond raised his eyebrows at him but inclined his head. “I believe it is afternoon, but yes, it was.”

Bilbo nearly smacked his forehead but replaced it with a probably pained smile. "I ah. Yes, yes I suppose it is."

There was a long, awkward pause.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Bilbo said abruptly, and Elrond inclined his head.

"I said once you were very welcome to stay here, and my offer still stands. Yet it has been nearly four years since last we met; why have you come here?"

_ Four years? _

"What in Mahal's name...?" Bilbo mumbled. Nothing made sense. It had been far less than four years since last he'd been there, certainly.

"Sorry," he began, "But what year is it?"

Elrond looked understandably taken aback but recovered with remarkable grace.

"2943," he replied, and Bilbo was starting to feel like something was very, very wrong.

"2943," he mumbled, and ran a hand through his hair. "Right." he said, and looked at Elrond. "If it's not too much trouble I'll need provisions and possibly another pony, and I'll be leaving tomorrow morning."

Elrond inclined his head. "You will have what you need."

"Thank you very much," Bilbo said, but his mind was elsewhere.

He had to get to Erebor.

His path to the mountain was an arduous one, and I will not bore you with the details; he avoided taking the mountain pass and thereby the goblin cave, and took the long way round to Beorn's house because he didn't have an Eagle on hand, and there he stayed for two days before continuing through Mirkwood. He stayed on the elven road this time and reached the other side within a few days, and from there found his first real shock.

Where once Laketown had stood in all its splendor as Esgaroth remade (just weeks ago it had been in the process of rebuilding), it was now a ruin. Broken, splintered wood stood out starkly against the icy water, and as Bilbo drew closer he could see that it was both charred and rotten.

_ What happened here? _

He continued on, urging the ponies around the lake. They were both exhausted, and so was he, but he didn't stop. Not now, when he was so close to home.

_ Thorin will be there, _ he thought to himself and he smiled.  _ He’ll be there. _

Already his thoughts turned to their soft bed, and the warm furs spread as blankets he snuggled under every night in the winter months. He urged his pony on again, and slowly but surely he made his way into Dale.

It was bustling; sellers called greetings to one another from brightly colored stalls, each advertising different arrays of spices, silks, jewels, and finely crafted metals. The buildings he could see had been repaired and stood as though Smaug had never destroyed them in the first place, and he briefly wondered how they had done all of this in such a short time.

Well. He’d have plenty of time to investigate later.

The gate was visible from his hilltop, and he smiled at the sight. The massive statues on either side had yet to be repaired but he could see movement on the walls, and the braziers were lit.

He was home.

The two ponies stumbled their way up to the gate and he dismounted, wincing as he hit the ground. His body was stiff and achy from being in the saddle for so long, and he groaned quietly as he dragged his traveling companions inside. When he arrived at the stables he paused in surprise. They were full of Dáin’s rams, a sight he hadn’t seen since the end of the Battle. A few dwarrows approached and he handed over the ponies, too bewildered to notice the confused looks he was given. Why had Dáin come with what looked like a full army?

Bilbo wandered through the halls, his feet carrying him steadily towards the throne room with no other thought but to find Thorin. As a result he nearly slammed straight into a dwarrow who was walking the other direction, and he stammered out a quick apology before his mind caught up to who it was. Balin was standing there staring at him with a thoroughly stunned expression, but all the hobbit felt was relief.

“Balin,” he said breathlessly.

Balin seemed to recover from his initial shock, and began picking up the scrolls he’d dropped when Bilbo had run into him. “Bilbo!” he replied as the hobbit bent down to help. 

There was a small pause as though Balin was considering how to say something tactfully before he straightened up and took the remaining scrolls from Bilbo with his thanks. “It’s a pleasant surprise to see you again, Master Baggins,” he said with a smile.

That little warning sign flashed in Bilbo’s head again, and this time he could ignore it no longer. Something was terribly, horribly wrong. The way Balin was looking at him, as though he hadn’t seen him in years, Dáin’s army, the lack of a marriage braid, the fact that Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli were nowhere to be seen.

“So sorry,” he began, “But where’s Thorin?”

If he hadn’t been sure before, the look on Balin’s face was all he needed to tell him.

  
  


The next few hours passed in a blur.

_ Thorin is dead. _

He met with Dáin, who was apparently the king. Between him and the rest of the Company, he was able to piece together their version of the adventure.

_ Thorin is dead. _

He wasn’t sure if they believed his story about mysteriously waking up in the Shire, but he hadn't exactly told them the truth of it either. For one thing he’d left out being married to Thorin. And he hadn’t said a word about half of their story being completely different when compared to his account of things.

_ Thorin is dead. _

Smaug destroying Laketown certainly explained the wreck he’d passed on the way in, but out of everything he’d learned so far there was only one thing that was certain. He had somehow found himself in a world other than his own, or at the very least the past had gone through some horrible changes.

_ Thorin is dead. _

He was starting to understand why he’d been living in the Shire. The more time he spent in Erebor, the more it felt like a tomb. The walls which had once been a comforting weight now felt claustrophobic, and everywhere he went he thought he heard Thorin’s laugh, or saw his face from a distance, but he was never there. When he wasn’t locked in his room he started spending more and more time with Balin, watching him decipher old texts or helping him repair ancient maps.

Six months had passed before he finally sat himself down and pulled himself together long enough to think about what to do. If there was a way to reverse the past then he had to find it, that was certain. And the only way he could think to do it was to find Gandalf. Who hadn’t bothered to stick around Erebor or leave a forwarding address.

He scowled at the book on his desk as though the manuscript was to blame. Well, there was only one thing for it. He’d have to find himself another wizard. Perhaps Radagast would know where to find him? Gandalf had said he lived in Mirkwood, and Mirkwood was a far easier starting point than all of Middle Earth. That was a good option. The two blue wizards, whoever they were, were both out; he didn’t even know their names. And Saruman sounded far too formidable, so… Radagast, then. Thranduil would probably know where he lived.

Bilbo closed the book and slid it to the side, then stretched and looked around. He was the only one still in the library, and the candles on his desk had burned far lower than he’d expected. He’d have to wait until morning to talk to Dáin about leaving.

He walked slowly back to the room he’d been given. It was pleasant, to be sure, but nothing like the one he’d shared with- No. He stifled that thought quickly and changed into his pajamas, then dropped face first on top of the fur blankets and instantly fell asleep.

Bilbo didn’t usually dream.

It was normally a  _ go to sleep, wake up in the morning _ routine. But this time he dreamed.

When he opened his eyes, he was standing on an island. The sky was like nothing he’d ever seen; swirls of blue and purple and gold, interspersed with stars burning millions of leagues away. He was standing on something smooth and warm, and when he looked down he saw the sky reflected back at him off the surface of the water. Somehow, he wasn’t afraid of falling in. He spun slowly around until he saw it; there was an island breaking the horizon in the distance. It didn’t surprise him nearly as much as it should have. He began to walk towards it, each footstep barely breaking the surface of the sea. Nothing around him seemed to change besides his silent footsteps, and the island which was growing as he neared it.

It was formed of some sort of glittering sand, shimmering like a thousand gems, and it was completely empty but for a solitary figure sitting at the edge of the water. He was facing away from Bilbo, but he would have known him anywhere.

“Thorin!” he shouted, and something seemed to break.

As Thorin turned to look at him whatever had been keeping him afloat shattered, and he plunged into freezing water.

His eyes flew open and he shot to his feet, gasping for breath. There were tears on his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments and kudos, I'm really excited to post more of this!!!! (And I'll try to have it posted on time next week!)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Thorin meet with Gandalf, then go back to Erebor to figure out exactly how different their adventures were.
> 
> This one's very fluffy!! The next few will probably be angsty ;-; but they will be happy in the end!

_ Canon _

By the time Bilbo, Thorin, Kíli, and Tauriel reached Dale it was nearly noon. 

Bilbo shivered. The midday sun blazing overhead did very little to dull the freezing wind that seemed to cut through every single layer he had on, and he wound up feeling more like a block of ice than a hobbit as his pony marched confidently onwards.

To his surprise Dale was much the same as it had been when the Company had first arrived three years prior. The buildings were still wrecked, the cobblestone paving was still cracked, and every house was dark, dusty, and neglected.

“Where do the people of L-Laketown live?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady through his shivering.

“In Laketown?” Kíli said, as though it should have been obvious.

“Wasn’t it-” Bilbo began, but then sighed. Of course it hadn’t been destroyed, Smaug had been dead when they arrived. “So i-it’s Esgaroth now?” He amended, and Thorin nodded.

“It looks more like it every day. We gave them what they needed to rebuild and begin trade again,” he said, and looked away as though considering something.

“A-And the Master of Laketown?” Bilbo asked, and Tauriel shook her head.

“The people of Laketown elected Bard as King. Apparently the Master fled with their gold when the orcs attacked in an attempt to ‘save himself.’”

Bilbo made a face. “That- well. That does sound like him.”

He jumped slightly as something soft and warm fell around his shoulders. It took him a long moment to realize it was Thorin’s cloak, and he hesitated for only a second before burrowing into it. It chased away the cold and prevented the wind from cutting through him, and it smelled like Thorin. Something warm spread through his chest that wasn’t just to do with the soft fur.

He chanced a look at Thorin and had to stifle a laugh. The King in question was bright pink and looking at the bell tower as though it held all the answers to the universe, and Bilbo smiled slightly and scooted his pony a little closer to press his forehead to Thorin’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said, and Thorin nodded courteously.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, and Bilbo smiled, then sat up quickly before he could fall out of the saddle.

“Ah! There he is!” said Kíli happily, pointing ahead to Gandalf’s distinctive hat.

Bilbo squinted and then irritably pushed his hair out of his face. The wind was blowing it wildly around and ordinarily it wouldn’t have been more than a mild inconvenience, but now it was so long it kept flying into his eyes which was both unexpected and surprisingly painful.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got a hair tie?” he asked Thorin, and Thorin smiled apologetically.

Bilbo sighed and pulled it back again, stuffing it into the collar of the cloak to keep it there before snuggling back into the warm fur.

“Good morning!” he called as they approached Gandalf, and the wizard turned with an amused smile.

“Do you mean to wish me a good morning or do you mean it is a good morning whether I want it or not?” he asked, and Bilbo laughed.

“All of them at once of course,” he said, and rubbed his hands together to get some feeling back to his fingers. “Is there somewhere we could go to talk?”

Kíli smiled. “There’s a tavern one street over!”

Thorin gave him a look and his grin widened, though he didn’t elaborate. Bilbo nodded. “Lead the way,” he said.

The five of them found themselves seated comfortably at a table in a well kept tavern (seemingly the only one functional in Dale), though Bilbo nearly laughed at the picture they made. Thorin looked completely out of place in the establishment (however pleasant it was) in his kingly tunic and perfect poise, and so did Tauriel for similar reasons. Kíli on the other hand looked totally at ease and Bilbo felt much the same; it was about the same as the Green Dragon. Gandalf was… Gandalf.

Bilbo looked down at his drink.

“So,” he started, “hypothetically, if one could travel between universes, how would one go about doing it?”

He looked up to find everyone staring at him. “Oh shut up,” he grumbled. “You know why I’m asking.”

Gandalf was giving him his signature What On Earth Are You Talking About look with just a dash of disapproval thrown in and Bilbo threw up his hands in irritation.

“Look, it’s not my fault I went to bed in the Shire and woke up in Erebor with Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli still alive! I don’t know what’s happening, or how I’m here, or where my ring went-”

At this Gandalf’s eyebrows shot up. “What ring?” he asked, and Bilbo glared at him.

_ “That’s _ what you’re focusing on- oh for goodness sake, it was a gold ring! I found it in the goblin tunnels and I’d very much like it  _ back, _ thank you very much. It was quite nice being able to turn invisible.” 

Gandalf was looking at him curiously, and Bilbo folded his arms. “I don’t have it  _ now, _ before you ask.”

“Where in the goblin tunnels did you find it?” Thorin asked. “You were with us the whole time we were running.”

Bilbo sighed. “No, I wasn’t. Your Bilbo was. I fell down a hole and got some rather painful rope burn and some awful bruises, played a game of riddles with a creature named Gollum, and got myself a ring.”

Thorin was staring at him, but Gandalf was frowning at the wall over Bilbo’s head.

Bilbo scowled. “No,” he said, and everyone looked at him again. “No, no. You’re doing the pensive look.”

Gandalf raised his eyebrows. “The what?”

Bilbo shook his head. “You make that look whenever you’re going to announce you’re leaving, and I still need an answer as to how I’m here!”

The wizard sighed. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that presently, but I’ll do what research I can.”

“Is it related to the ring?” Tauriel asked, and Gandalf stood.

“There is only one way to find out. I will find the ring and bring it to Saruman, the head of my order. In the meantime, all of you must stay here.”

Thorin inclined his head, and Gandalf picked up his hat and staff.

“I do not know when I shall return, but I will have an answer when I do,” he said, and bade everyone farewell before leaving.

Bilbo glowered at his mug, sinking a little lower in his seat.

Tauriel smiled and took Kíli’s hand. “We will return to the mountain and inform the others. They were worried about Bilbo.”

Kíli nodded quickly and gave Thorin a grin and a thumbs up that Bilbo felt like he wasn’t supposed to have seen. “Yes. Exactly. See you later!”

The two of them jumped up and left quickly, laughing quietly about something.

Bilbo kept his eyes on his mug, even as he saw Thorin fidget quietly to his right.

“So,” he started, and Bilbo finally looked at him. “We should probably talk.”

Bilbo paused for a long moment before reaching out and taking Thorin’s hand under the table. “Yes, I suppose we should.”

Thorin squeezed his fingers gently and moved his chair a little closer to carefully put an arm around him. Bilbo leaned into the embrace. “You could start by telling me about how things went in this world. Although it might be faster if I tell you my tale and then you tell me the things that are different.”

Thorin nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps we should return to Erebor and discuss this there?”

Bilbo nodded and stood up, pulling Thorin’s cloak back around him.

Thorin paused for a moment watching him, then cleared his throat. “You er. It might be warmer if we rode together.”

Bilbo’s cheeks went pink but he nodded. “Ah. Yes, it probably would,” he said in a commendably steady voice.

Thorin stood too and gestured Bilbo ahead of him, and Bilbo smiled as he walked out. He stopped at the door and dropped his face into his hand. One look at the ponies told him Tauriel and Kíli had already decided they would ride together, having left them with only one. Thorin made a similar noise of disbelief when he stepped out, and sighed.

“Sometimes I can’t believe he and Fíli are related.”

“Like Fíli wouldn’t do something like this?” Bilbo shot back, and Thorin laughed. The sound alone was enough to make the hobbit melt.

“A few years ago I never would have questioned it,” Thorin replied. “But now he’s certainly coming into his own.”

Bilbo smiled at him. “I missed you,” he said abruptly, and Thorin looked at him.

He gently reached out and ran his fingers through Bilbo’s hair, pausing on the unravelling braid. Bilbo caught his wrist and shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “Don’t fix it yet.”

Thorin recoiled slightly and Bilbo shook his head again. “It’s not because I don’t want it, I just- I don’t know how permanent this is. And if I’m going to lose you again tomorrow-” his voice broke, and he buried his face in Thorin’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around him and holding on as tightly as he could.

Thorin held him just as tightly, gently carding his fingers through the curls. “I understand,” he said softly, and Bilbo sniffed hard to keep from crying.

“Hm,” he said, clearing his throat, and then he stepped back. “We should get going,” he mumbled, and Thorin nodded.

He hesitated for a beat, then before he could second guess himself grabbed Thorin’s tunic and dragged him down into a searing kiss. It was everything he’d imagined and then some, and when they finally broke apart he had to stifle a wistful sigh at the loss.

Thorin grinned at him and leaned down to press their foreheads together, and Bilbo laughed. Even if it ended tomorrow, how lucky he was to have this.

He climbed onto the pony first, followed by Thorin, and he leaned back against him as they made their way back to the mountain. He began to sing his walking song under his breath and Thorin tilted his head above him.

“I don’t recall this one,” he said after a moment. Bilbo sat up a little bit and looked at him over his shoulder.

“It’s one of my own compositions,” he said, and Thorin winced. “What?”

“Nothing, except that’s what the Goblin King said about his music.”

Bilbo stared at him for a moment. “He made  _ music?” _

Thorin shook his head quickly. “No. No, it was absolutely  _ not _ music. I think someone slaughtering a pack of wargs would have sounded better.”

Bilbo burst out laughing, and after a moment Thorin laughed too. “It was that bad?”

“Worse,” said Thorin, and pressed a kiss to Bilbo’s temple.

Bilbo leaned back against him again and smiled. “Well, mine isn’t any great musical work but I dare say it’s a sight better than whatever that place could cook up.”

“I would very much like to hear it,” Thorin said softly, and Bilbo smiled and sang:

Roads go ever on,

Over rock and under tree,

By caves where never sun has shone,

By streams that never find the sea;

Over snow by winter sown,

And through the merry flowers of June,

Over grass and over stone,

And under mountains in the moon.

Roads go ever on

Under cloud and under star,

Yet feet that wandering have gone

Turn at last to home afar.

Eyes that fire and sword have seen

And horror in the halls of stone

Look at last on meadows green

And trees and hills they long have known.

By the time he sang the last line they were nearing the gates, and he sat up again. “It’s a bit of a work in progress,” he said quickly.

“It’s wonderful,” Thorin said, and Bilbo felt his face heat up. “I had no idea you sang so beautifully.”

Bilbo scoffed loudly and lightly kicked Thorin’s leg. “Oh hush,” he said, but it had no real heat behind it.

Thorin laughed and dropped down from the pony before helping Bilbo down after him. “As the King of Erebor I shall do no such thing.”

“Well, as someone who was in possession of the Arkenstone for several days-”

“You were what?”

“Oh right! I was going to tell you my story. Hm, where to begin- ah yes!” and he began to tell Thorin all about his adventures, and Thorin listened even as the candles burned low in their quarters and the night drew in around them. At the mention of dragon sickness Thorin paled considerably.

Bilbo reached out and took his hands in his own, and Thorin sighed. “Do you want me to keep going?” Bilbo asked, and Thorin looked up at him.

“Yes,” he said softly, and the hobbit nodded.

In the end he wound up telling the whole thing, but Thorin looked stricken when he talked about Fíli and Kíli’s deaths. He couldn’t blame him. Even now that he knew they were safe, the pain of losing the three of them still stung.

“So now you know how my side of things went,” he said, and Thorin made a noise of assent.

“Would you like me to tell you what went differently?” he asked, and Bilbo nodded.

“It started off the same way; I arrived late from the meeting in Ered Luin, but from there… The first thing that was different was the trolls. None of us were captured by them, though you did manage to steal one of their knives and cut the ropes on the pen around the ponies. Then Rivendell was the same-” he made a face, which Bilbo laughed at, “and so were the stone giants. You were with us the whole time in the goblin tunnels, though.”

Bilbo smiled. “So I got to hear this terrible composition you were talking about?”

Thorin shuddered. “Unfortunately, yes.”

Bilbo laughed. “It couldn’t have been worse than playing riddles with Gollum.”

“What  _ was _ Gollum? Was he a goblin?” Thorin asked, and Bilbo shook his head.

“He wasn’t anything I’ve ever heard of. He was- well, parts of him looked a bit hobbitish, but he certainly wasn’t like any hobbit I’d ever seen.”

Thorin frowned, then shrugged. “I suppose we’ll get answers from Gandalf when he returns.”

Bilbo stared at him. “Is this Gandalf somehow more willing to answer questions than the one I have in my world? Because the one in my world is the most confusing, unclear, and confounded fellow I’ve ever met when you have the misfortune to ask him something.”

Thorin smiled. “He does talk in riddles, doesn’t he.”

Bilbo scoffed loudly. “Talks in riddles- riddles I can figure out! Gandalf doesn’t ever make sense!”

Thorin laughed and Bilbo grinned at him, gesturing with one hand. “Please, continue. I think you’d just finished with the Goblin King.”

Thorin nodded, still smiling. “Yes, the goblin tunnels. After we got through those, we were attacked by Azog, like you said. You still saved my life in this world, though from what the others told me Azog was thrown from the cliffs by the eagles along with almost all of his pack.”

Bilbo nodded. “That’s really what should’ve happened,” he grumbled and Thorin squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Keep going, keep going. I’m alright,” he said and Thorin nodded.

“Once we’d gotten down the Carrock and into Mirkwood we didn’t have the whole escape with barrels. We stayed on the path through there, and though we ran into a few wood elves they escorted us along the path. To make sure we stayed on it and didn’t sneak into their kingdom of course.”

Bilbo laughed. “So you never ran into any giant spiders?”

“No, we ran into those. You freed us from them, but we found the path again shortly after.”

Bilbo made an incredulous noise. “Well, that’s very different from how things went in my world. And how did Kíli and Tauriel meet then?”

“She was one of the guards that escorted us.” Thorin didn’t look overly pleased at the memory.

“Did you meet Legolas?” Bilbo asked, and Thorin shook his head.

“No, nor Thranduil, though we did return his gems to him recently.”

“Ah yes, the white gems of- Las- Lasg- oh whatever it was. Lasagna.”

Thorin made an incredulous noise, grinning from ear to ear. “Lasgalen?”

“THAT’s the one!” Bilbo cried triumphantly.

Thorin stared at him for a long moment as though processing exactly what Bilbo had just said before he started to laugh. Bilbo started laughing too and he collapsed against Thorin’s shoulder, which only made him laugh harder. The two of them were breathless and wiping their eyes by the time they finally calmed down.

“I should tell Thranduil you called the heirlooms of his house lasagna,” Thorin said, though he put ‘heirlooms of his house’ in quotes. Bilbo laughed again.

“Oh he already hates me for stealing his keys, I don’t mind.”

Thorin smiled. “You never did that here.”

Bilbo sniffed self-importantly. “It’s only a matter of time.”

Thorin chuckled and shook his head fondly. “Where were we?”

“You’d just finished telling me about the spiders I think.”

“Ah, yes. After the spiders, well… The next big difference was that Kíli was never shot by Bolg, nor were we chased by orcs into Laketown. We happened to meet Bard and the elves secured us passage with him.”

Bilbo’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s the  _ opposite _ of what we went through. Are you sure we were even on the same adventure?”

Thorin smiled. “The more I learn about yours the less sure I become.”

Bilbo smiled back. “Fair enough. Continue.”

“After that we made our way to the mountain, where we entered through the door to find Smaug had died. It was a lot of work deciding how best to get the body out of the front gate, but we eventually broke it down with a bell and carted him out.”

Bilbo snickered at the thought of Smaug being carted out of Erebor. “That would have made him  _ furious.” _

Thorin smiled. “Mm. Truly I think taking him away from his treasure alone would’ve been enough to truly infuriate him. After that… We gave the people of Laketown what was promised, and we thought it would be over. But Bolg arrived shortly after. We barricaded ourselves in the mountain and sent word to Dáin, who had thankfully already been on his way after we sent word we’d retaken the mountain. All things considered it wasn’t a difficult fight- we lost many, of course, but not as many as we could have. We held the mountain, and Bolg was slain atop Ravenhill.”

Bilbo started to reply but was cut off by a yawn, and Thorin pushed a few strands of hair out of his face.

“I think it’s late,” Bilbo said, and Thorin snorted.

“It’s nearly dawn, so I suppose you could say it’s early.”

Bilbo stared at him. “Nearly dawn- well, that would explain why I’m so worn out.”

Thorin smiled and stood, undoing his ornate belt and pulling off his tunic before starting to comb out his hair, and Bilbo followed his lead. Everything was where he thought it should be (given that the person who’d been there before had been  _ a _ Bilbo Baggins, even if it wasn’t technically speaking  _ him) _ and he changed quickly into his pajamas. For some reason every single tunic he had was far too big for him, but he shrugged it off as he slid into it. It was exceedingly comfortable.

When he turned back, Thorin was watching him. His face went bright pink, and so did Thorin’s. “Yes?” he asked, and Thorin ran his fingers quickly through his hair.

“My apologies,” he said quickly. “I- you never changed in here when- you were the other you.”

Bilbo frowned. He’d gotten rather used to changing with everyone else on the journey, so his reasoning for changing elsewhere was alluding him. “Hm.” he mumbled, and shrugged. “I’m not sure why I was doing that, but there you go. Besides, it isn’t like we never changed together on the road.”

Thorin smiled. “True,” he said, “but then I couldn’t risk looking at you for too long lest Dwalin or - Durin forbid - Fíli and Kíli would notice. And I-” he blushed. “I didn’t want to invade your privacy.”

Bilbo blinked. “That’s- Oh. Thank you,” he said, and his heart skipped a beat. “That’s very kind of you.”

Thorin inclined his head quickly, then turned back and pulled on his own sleep shirt, and Bilbo realized a second later why all his tunics were so big. “Oh, these are yours aren’t they?” he asked, and Thorin smiled.

“You enjoyed stealing them,” he said, and Bilbo laughed.

“They are very comfortable.”

Thorin climbed onto the bed, but Bilbo hesitated. Thorin looked over at him and seemed to realize something. “If you’d rather sleep somewhere else-” he started, but Bilbo shook his head.

“No, I’d rather sleep here, but- well, if the other me-”

Thorin shook his head. “You’re both Bilbo, whether you traveled with me in this life or another.”

Bilbo hesitated for one more second before climbing onto the bed and burrowing under the furs spread across it. It was probably the most comfortable place he’d ever slept, and his eyes began to close the second his head hit the pillow. As he fell asleep, he felt Thorin put his arms around him and pull him close.

“Goodnight, Thorin,” he mumbled.

“Goodnight, Amrâlimê,” he heard in reply as he drifted off.

And deep below the mountain, something shifted in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOO I'm really late with this one sorry!! I'm in the process of moving and that combined with school is super stressful but it'll be done soon! So more regular updates will be arriving at some point. I promise!! And thank you guys again for all your comments and kudos, they mean the world to me!!!!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo passes through Thranduil's halls and gains an unexpected travel companion on his way to find Gandalf!

Dáin approved his request to find Gandalf, and supplied him with everything he needed and then some. Everyone else wished him well on his journey (a few even offered to accompany him, but he dissuaded them with promises of a prompt return. It wasn’t that he didn’t want them to come, he would miss them of course, but he could use some time alone.) By the time he’d loaded up his ponies with all his provisions he was more than ready to set out again, and determination was mingling with the first real hope he’d had since his arrival at the mountain.

With one last assurance to his friends he’d write to them, he set out towards the woods.

By the time he reached Mirkwood it was nearly nightfall, and Thranduil’s halls were a welcome sight. They were bigger than he would have expected, and from here the gates were reminiscent of Erebor’s in size and grandeur, with the tangled woods surrounding them in clouds of green and gold. He urged the ponies onward, but, as he drew closer, his initial impression began to fade. From this new angle it was actually rather ostentatious, and far more dramatic than was necessary in his opinion. The ornate branches overlapping and curling across the doorframe seemed to mock his messy hair and worn clothing, and he began to feel rather out of place.

He slid out of the saddle before he crossed the bridge, leading the ponies by their reins.

The two elven guards on either side of the gate looked down at him impassively, but allowed him to pass without so much as an inspection of his ponies. As he stepped past them and inside, he could have sworn he heard one of them whisper: “Wasn’t that the halfling that stole the King’s keys?”

A few elves came up and took the ponies from him, and another gestured further along the path towards what looked like one of the largest throne rooms he’d ever seen (not that he’d seen many).

He smiled graciously and thanked them in elvish. The little thrill of delight he felt when a few of them sent him surprised looks was its own reward.

By the time he reached the throne itself he was thoroughly ready to be done with this adventure, and he barely resisted scowling up at Thranduil after he had bowed politely and greeted him in the proper custom of elves.

“Greetings, King Thrandil.”

Thranduil looked down at him impassively. “Why have you come here, halfling?”

Bilbo nearly made a loud and affronted noise, but he stifled it at the last second. He did not take kindly to being called “halfling,” and if he was sure if Thorin had been there with him they would have had another war on their hands.

“Would you be kind enough to tell me where I could find the wizard Radagast?” he asked, and to his credit he only sounded a little peeved.

Thrandil looked mildly surprised. “Why would you need to seek him?”

“I’m looking for Gandalf,” he replied, and made it clear by his tone that he would offer no more information on the subject.

There was a painfully long moment of silence before Thranduil stood. “I will help you find him, if only to repay what I owe you for the return of my people’s heirlooms, and your gift of the Arkenstone.” Bilbo nearly choked. First the stolen keys, now his gift of the  _ what? _

“Yes, well, thank you,” he mumbled. It seemed he had more to learn about his adventures here than he’d thought.  _ Much _ more.

Thranduil gave a slight wave of his hand and one of the guards stepped up immediately. “Show the halfling to his room.” He fixed his gaze on Bilbo again. “Tomorrow, a guide will take you to Radagast. We cannot do more for you after that.”

_ Yes you very well can, _ said a cross little voice in Bilbo’s head which he tactfully ignored. “Thank you,” he said again, and Thranduil inclined his head very slightly which Bilbo knew meant  _ you’re welcome _ and  _ the conversation is now finished _ at the same time.

A sudden memory of Thorin snarling “Elves!” on their way to Rivendell sprang into his mind, and he had to turn quickly and clear his throat to stifle a laugh.

He followed the guard to his room, his steps silent on the polished wood floor. Everywhere he looked there were twisting roots, leaves springing from walls of stone, doors of wrought iron and shining oak, and so many other marvels that it set his head spinning. His armored escort halted before a door that looked identical to all the others, and Bilbo frowned at it. How he was supposed to remember which was his in this maze was beyond him.

“Call for me if you need anything,” the guard said, and Bilbo looked up in surprise. He knew that voice well.

“Tauriel?” he half exclaimed, and she regarded him with dull interest.

Now that he looked closely, it was clear it was her. Her features had lost their vibrancy, her red hair nearly gray and her hazel eyes dull and dark, and red rimmed. She looked pale and drawn, and he found his next words stuck in his throat.

He didn’t need to ask what had happened.

“You’re a member of the guard now?” he asked instead, taking in the metal helmet and chest plate.

“Yes,” she replied. “I was demoted from Captain after my actions at the battle.”

Bilbo felt something clench in his chest. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, and she shook her head.

“It was my choice.”

“After losing-” Bilbo began, but stopped mid sentence when she winced. That was it, then. Before he could say anything to apologize, Tauriel cleared her throat and looked away.

“If you need me, I will be nearby,” she said with a quick bow, and then walked briskly down the hall. As she left, the hobbit saw her reach a hand up to swipe at her eyes.

Bilbo watched her go with a heavy heart, then turned and eased the door to his room open, ignoring the stinging in his own eyes. Instead, he turned his attention to his new surroundings.

It was large, bigger than he’d expected but less spacious than his shared room at Erebor. There was a chest of drawers beside a closet, and a large mirror that stretched far up the wall. The ceiling was a myriad of crisscrossing vines and roots, threaded together so tightly that he could see nothing above him, nor below, as the floor had been constructed in the same fashion. The bed itself was far bigger than he was used to, and he eyed the distance up to the mattress with some skepticism. The roaring fireplace set into the wall of stone across from him was a surprise; in the middle of a forest, he hadn’t thought they’d have much use for one.

He slipped into the bathroom first, and sighed happily upon finding the tub already filled with steaming water. He pulled off the filthy traveling clothes and dropped them to the side before sinking into the water and beginning the arduous process of clearing the dirt off his skin. The water was nearly cold by the time he’d finished washing his hair, and he toweled dry before grabbing the robe hanging on the back of the door. In the fashion of the room this was also far too big for him, but he used that to his advantage and burrowed into the soft warmth. It reminded him of long nights curled up against Thorin, buried under a pile of furs reading aloud by candlelight, or of bonfires by the front gate with the rest of the Company, all of them sharing stories of daring adventures or songs of old.

He looked down at the pile of clothing on the floor and sighed.

It took him another hour or so to wash all of it, and by the time he was done he was more than ready to sleep. He laid the clothing out in front of the fire to dry and stretched before clambering up onto the mattress and collapsing underneath the blankets. He was out before his head hit the pillow.

  


He was dreaming again. He knew he was dreaming because it was exactly the same as last time; he was alone, standing on a wide open sea, looking out at the horizon. The sky was a mess of blue and gold and purple, all swirling and spiraling and reflecting in the water. Bilbo turned in circles for a few seconds, staring around and trying to find the island. He couldn’t see it, but something told him he’d find it no matter what way he went. It was how this place worked.

He started running, small ripples emanating from where his feet hit the water (though it never broke). The sea didn’t seem to move around him, ever flat and blank, and he didn’t tire despite his continuous sprint. Then without warning or any apparent reason the world around him shifted, and suddenly there was the island in front of him, barely fifty feet away. He didn’t call out this time, but he did slow his pace to a quick walk.

He stopped right before the edge of the sand. One foot. He could feel the grains shift as he stepped onto it, making a soft  _ shffff _ noise as they slid. The other foot. Step. Step. Step.

Bilbo stopped, inches away from Thorin. He cleared his throat quietly.

Thorin whirled around, leaping back from him like a scalded cat. “What-!?”

Bilbo jumped too, pressing a hand to his chest. “Sorry- sorry.” He could talk this time. That was an improvement.

Thorin ran his fingers through his hair, trying to regain his composure. “No, it’s alright- I was- startled.”

Bilbo cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly. “Right.”

There was a pause, and then Thorin stepped forwards. His hand hovered, just beside Bilbo’s ear and over the place where he’d done his best approximation of their marriage braid. Bilbo took his hand gently and pressed his cheek against it. Tears welled up unbidden in his eyes and he sniffed hard, suddenly struggling to keep himself together. He cleared his throat again.

“So,” he said, and his voice was hoarse, “It’s you.”

Thorin leaned forward and gently pressed his forehead against Bilbo’s. “It’s me.”

“I’m sorry.” They spoke in unison, and both of them looked at the other with wide eyes.

“I-”

“Bilbo-”

“No, you go first.”

Thorin nodded and cleared his throat. “I wanted to apologize for everything. Again. I led you into danger, and everything that happened on the battlements- I’m sorry. I was not myself, which is no excuse, but-”

“What happened?” Bilbo asked, frowning up at him, and Thorin blinked.

“Do you not remember me nearly throwing you from the rampart-”

“What- no!? Thorin what  _ exactly _ did you do during our quest!?”

The two of them stared at each other.

“I’m not from your world,” Bilbo said eventually, “And I’d greatly appreciate it if you could tell me what happened on  _ your _ version of our quest.”

_ Even if you are just a dream. _

“How did you get here?” Thorin asked, and he sounded a little shaken.

Bilbo sighed. “I wish I could tell you. I do miss my world though. We’re married, and you’re not dead, and the King-”

“We’re WHAT!?”

_ “Married,” _ Bilbo said, a little impatiently. He pulled on his braid. “And my hair is a fair bit longer there, which is why this doesn’t fall out all the time. It would also help if I had a half decent bead to tie it off with.”

Thorin reached up and slid the bead off the end of his side braid before stepping forward slowly. He gently reached out, waiting for permission before redoing the marriage braid and slipping his bead onto the end of it.

Bilbo looked up. It seemed all Thorins were alike in the way they towered over him. “Thank you,” he said, and smiled.

Thorin leaned down and gently pressed his forehead to Bilbo’s. “I would give you anything you asked for, Ghivashel.”

Before Bilbo could respond the sand split underneath him, swirling round and round as it dragged him under. He was gone before he could cry out.

His eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright, gasping for breath.

It took his half-awake brain a moment to catch up.

He reached up quickly for his marriage braid, some small part of him hoping desperately for a bead, but his fingers met nothing but soft curls. There was no bead. 

_ Just a dream. _

“Oh,” he said quietly, and his chest felt tight.

There was a soft knock on the door.

“Just a moment!” he called, and he dressed quickly before calling out “Come in!”

Tauriel stepped into the room, a dull brown leather pack slung over her shoulder. She had forgone her armor, instead clad in dark green and brown. She inclined her head to him and he smiled. “I am to accompany you to Radagast,” she said quietly.

Bilbo nodded. “Thank you,” he said, and then tipped his head to the side as he considered something. “Well- I’m not sure this would be allowed, mind you, but would you like to come with me to find Gandalf too? We can have our own little adventure.”

She looked at him strangely for a moment.

“I think I would like that,” she said, and smiled. It was a small, sad smile, but it was there nonetheless.

The two of them made their way down through the halls, stopping only to grab provisions and breakfast before continuing down the steps to the ponies (and Tauriel’s white horse).

“Have you seen Legolas lately?” Bilbo asked, and Tauriel rolled her eyes.

“No,” she said, but there was a hint of laughter in her voice. “But he’s written to me several times. He sounds like he’s still trying to find that ranger his father told him about.”

Bilbo laughed. “How is he with directions?” The two of them climbed onto their mounts and set off into the forest. “Thorin was always dreadful with them, and I’m trying to figure out if it’s something to do with royalty or if it was just him.”

Tauriel laughed and then blinked, as though she’d startled herself. “He never seemed to lose his way in the woods, so it may have been Thorin alone. Was he that bad with them?”

Bilbo laughed too. “It’s a wonder we found the mountain at all!”

The two of them fell into companionable silence, looking at the forest around them. There were shoots of green everywhere Bilbo looked, and the further they went the more healthy the plants became. By the time they saw the little cottage in the distance the earth was covered in moss, and there were ferns growing up around the trees.

“Is this what the Greenwood looked like?” Bilbo asked, and Tauriel nodded.

“Yes. It was not always as poisoned as it is now.”

Bilbo nodded. The two of them pulled to a halt outside of the clearing, and Tauriel called “Radagast! We have come to speak with you! We need your aid!”

“Yes yes, just a moment!” called a voice crossly on the other side of the cabin, and the two travellers glanced at each other with barely concealed amusement.

Bilbo walked around to the other side with Tauriel in tow, and Radagast brushed the dirt off his hands as he stood to look at them.

“Yes?” he said irritably, and Bilbo caught a glimpse of a beautiful red flower he’d been planting.

“Hello,” said Bilbo amicably, before clearing his throat. “So sorry to bother you, but we need your help finding Gandalf.”

Radagast sighed and waved a hand dismissively. “He just left Rohan yesterday, and he’ll be staying in Minas Tirith for some time after. Helping them prepare against Mordor, all that.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo said, and smiled.

Radagast nodded again, then frowned at him, and Bilbo was struck with the impression that he was seeing something they couldn’t. When he spoke again, there was a dark warning in his voice, as though the trees of old were speaking through him. “If you see him, don’t forget to tell him about that ring of yours.”

Bilbo startled. “What ring?”

“The one in your pocket, right now. It’s got a very nasty aura around it,” Radagast replied.

Tauriel looked at Bilbo in surprise, and Bilbo reached into his pocket and took out the ring. It sat on his palm, winking at him playfully. Radagast looked down at him.

“I wouldn’t keep that on you if I were you. Tie it up in your saddlebags, and keep an eye on it. And don’t ever put it on!”

“Why?” Bilbo asked.

“Because it might be much more dangerous than you think,” Radagast replied, and then made a shooing motion. “Well, go on then! Gandalf won’t stay in Minas Tirith forever.”

Bilbo bowed in proper dwarvish fashion before remembering he wasn’t with a company of dwarves. “Thank you,” he said a little awkwardly, and Tauriel inclined her head before saying something in Sindarin that Bilbo couldn’t quite make out.

Radagast nodded brusquely before ushering the two of them on again and calling, almost as an afterthought, over his shoulder “Good luck!”

Bilbo climbed back onto his pony and looked at Tauriel. “How far is Minas Tirith?”

Tauriel sighed. “Around a hundred leagues from here. It won’t be easy.”

“I rode to Erebor from the Shire with  _ Thorin _ leading, it can’t be much worse than that,” grumbled Bilbo as he stuffed the ring into an interior pocket of one of the saddlebags. “Do you know what he said when he first arrived? ‘I lost my way, twice’.” he imitated Thorin’s voice with some accuracy. “And we were expecting  _ him _ to lead the quest.”

Tauriel laughed. “You’re rather hard on him, aren’t you?”

Bilbo scoffed loudly. “He up and died on me before I could tell him I loved him in this world, I think I’ve got that right.”

“This world?” Tauriel asked, and Bilbo groaned. It was exhausting having to repeat himself to everyone he ran into, and he was sure this wouldn’t be the last time.

“Let me start at the beginning,” he said, and began to recount the whole story of him waking up in the Shire, to his journey to Erebor, to coming to Mirkwood in search of Gandalf.

The days passed uneventfully on their ride, and the two of them bought provisions and stayed in lodgings where they could, otherwise sleeping under the stars in their bedrolls and taking turns with the watch. It took them nearly a month to reach the city, and by the time they arrived both of them were exhausted.

Tauriel dismounted and sighed, looking up at the huge gates that stood open in front of the massive white walls. No one questioned them as they walked through the cobblestone streets, though Bilbo was forced at one point to stop and ask a passing guard for directions.

The two of them continued up the main road, not stopping until they’d reached the upper levels of the citadel. There they at last found where the wizard was staying, and the two weary travelers tied up their mounts outside before entering.

“Hello,” Tauriel said to the first man they saw inside. “The wizard Gandalf?”

The man nodded his head towards the stairs. “Third floor, first door on the right. One with a balcony overlooking Mordor.”

Tauriel nodded. “Thank you.”

Bilbo looked around as they walked up the steps. “The one with a balcony overlooking Mordor. That’s not something you hear every day.”

Tauriel laughed as they reached the room. She had been doing that more frequently on their travels, and Bilbo thought she was losing a little of that bleakness she’d had in Thranduil’s halls.

Before either of them could knock, the door swung open so quickly Bilbo was forced to leap back, and Gandalf strode out into the hallway.

“Gandalf!” Bilbo cried, and he nearly swayed where he stood. The weight of his travels and his journey seemed to press down upon him all at once as he looked up at the wizard, and exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him.

Though for once, it seemed he’d managed to surprise the wizard in turn. 

“Bilbo Baggins!?”

He smiled up at Gandalf and shook his head. “You would not  _ believe _ what I’ve been through trying to find you. You know for all your fireworks parties and visits to the Shire and all that you’re not half as easy to get in touch with as I thought you would be!”

Gandalf seemed utterly nonplussed by Bilbo’s complaints, staring at him as though this was the last place anyone would expect to see a hobbit.  _ Well, _ Bilbo supposed,  _ that was probably true. _

Tauriel cleared her throat politely and introduced herself, and Gandalf greeted her in Sindarin, and after that he seemed ready to accept Bilbo’s existence.

“Why have you come here?” he asked, looking down at Bilbo with that insufferable air of knowing more than everyone else.

“To find you!” Bilbo snapped, and he ran his fingers through his hair agitatedly. “I’ve been here for almost two years now, and I’d like to go  _ home, _ if you don’t mind. You’re the only one I know who could even begin to help sort this out, so please, can we go back inside and talk about this?”

Gandalf nodded and held the door open for them, and the three of them stepped into the room. It was around the same size as Bilbo’s room in Mirkwood, but this was a true apartment, and had all the appliances of Men. The hobbit and the elf settled onto the couch, and Gandalf stood at the balcony overlooking the far off mountain range towards the blackened lands. They reminded Bilbo of Smaug.

It was Tauriel who began telling his tale. By this point she knew Bilbo’s story, and the two of them recounted it together, with Bilbo adding in or contradicting things she missed. Gandalf’s frown was steadily becoming deeper the more they spoke, and when they finally reached the end it seemed his eyebrows were trying to become one with his nose.

“This ring you speak of,” he said, and turned fully to look at them, “may I see it?”

Bilbo had brought the ring up with him when he’d tied up the ponies, and now he took it from his pocket and held it up. A few weeks before it had felt as light as the mithril shirt he wore, but now it felt as thick and heavy as lead. And perhaps it was as dangerous too; he could feel something pulling him in, drawing his gaze to that gold band, and it frightened him to know he could not look away. No matter how much he wanted to.

Gandalf reached out towards it, and something in his chest reared with anger. He closed his fist quickly and yanked his hand back, clutching the ring to his chest. “Don’t touch it!”

Both Tauriel and Gandalf frowned at him, and he snarled, leaping to his feet. “It’s  _ mine, _ not yours, mine! I found it!”

Gandalf moved towards him, still frowning, and he backed away quickly. “I am not trying to take the ring from you, Bilbo.”

“Oh- oh of course not! No you just want to look at it- a likely story!”

Tauriel stood too. “Bilbo, I think you should show it to him.”

The hobbit snarled again and opened his mouth to retort, but Gandalf stepped forwards, towering over him, and the room darkened around them, as though he were sucking all the light from it.

“Bilbo Baggins, do not take me for some conjurer of cheap tricks!”

Oh he’d really gone and done it now. He’d never managed to make Gandalf this angry before, and he pressed himself back into the wall to get as far away as he could, shrinking under his burning gaze.

“I am not trying to rob you!” and all at once the darkness faded, and the room returned to some semblance of normalcy. “I’m trying to help you,” he said gently, and Bilbo’s shoulders slumped as all the tension drained out of him.

“Sorry,” he said hoarsely, and pressed his face into his free hand. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

Gandalf sighed kindly, and set a hand on his shoulder. “I have my suspicions about the ring, but there are things I must see to before I can be sure.”

“What things?” Bilbo asked, looking up at him and then back down at the cold band hidden behind his fingers. Gandalf straightened and nodded to the door.

“There is a library, of sorts, here that I have permission to use. It has ancient texts dating back before Isildur himself.”

“Isildur?” Bilbo asked, and Gandalf nodded to the door.

“One of the old kings of Gondor, who vanquished Sauron in the old days…”

  


It took them well over three days to finally locate anything that would have been considered useful. Bilbo pulled an ancient stack of pages over to the desk and waved the dust away from his face, ducking to the side to sneeze before turning back to what he’d found.

“This could be useful,” he said, flipping open a page tentatively. “It looks like Isildur’s account of finding the ring of power.”

Gandalf rose and peered over his shoulder, frowning at the yellowed pages. Tauriel leaned over to look too. Bilbo slowly took the ring from his pocket.

“A secret now that only fire can tell?” Tauriel asked softly, and Bilbo frowned, holding it up to the candlelight.

Gandalf shook his head, and took a torch from the wall. “Set it into the flame.”

Bilbo stared at him. “Why on Earth would I-”

Tauriel gave him a meaningful look and he gave in. “Oh very well. But if it ruins the ring I won’t be happy.” With some trepidation, he carefully dropped the ring into the fire.

Nothing happened.

After a moment, Gandalf tipped the torch to the side and the ring fell to the ground with a single  _ thud. _

Bilbo leaned down but hesitated, fingers centimeters away from its smooth surface.

“Go on,” Gandalf urged. “Pick it up. It’s quite cool.”

The hobbit glowered at him for a moment before he lightly touched it. To his surprise, Gandalf had been right; it was as cold as an ice cube. He picked it up and squinted at it. “What good did that do?”

“Are there any markings on the band?” Gandalf asked instead, and Bilbo shook his head.

“Nothing- no, wait- there’s something appearing. It’s in Elvish, I think?”

Tauriel leaned over the pages again. “It matches what Isildur wrote. One ring to rule them all, one ring to bind them, one ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them…”

Bilbo took a shaky breath. “You’re telling me my counterpart had the one ring? The entire time, with Thorin, he had this?”

Gandalf looked deeply troubled, and Bilbo couldn’t blame him. “It would seem so,” the wizard replied.

“How do we destroy it?” Tauriel asked, and Bilbo fell silent. There was some part of him at war with the other, one side arguing they had to destroy it, while the other maintained quite adamantly that it was HIS ring, HE should get to keep it, and who cared what he did with his own things.

He did his best to ignore that side.

“There is only one way. In Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom, the ring was made, and there lies the only place it can be unmade.”

“Well,” Bilbo grumbled, “it’s a good thing we’re already here.”

It seemed getting home would have to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took me so long to update this but thank you all for your wonderful comments!! I'm going to keep working on this I swear! Next part should be up sometime soon!
> 
> Happy new year!!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna do my best to get these chapters posted at a Reasonable Time so fingers crossed everything works out!! If I don't post for a while rest assured I have not abandoned it, I'm just swamped with school work <3


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